


Heal

by Little_buttercup



Series: Nereval and Nerevar [15]
Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 22:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12640062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_buttercup/pseuds/Little_buttercup





	1. Walk

She did not know how long she was unconscious for, it felt like she was floating. Away from all the pain and hurts of her body, but her soul still ached with the missing piece. Nereval did not notice the soft hands against her brow, nor the strong arms lifting her from the mountainside. She never felt the jarring movements of being carried off, of the healers working hurriedly around her to keep her alive. The mess that was her leg would be their main priority, as the rest of her wounds had been properly cleaned and stitched, bandages were changed every six hours to stop any sort of infection from setting in. The dirt and broken armor had been taken off her body to be cleaned and repaired, prayers were sent to both the Tribunal and Azura, Clansmen and Great House warriors, healers and priests worked together with minimal bickering to save their Nerevarine and Hortator. The Sharmat was gone as far as they knew, they owed her a great debt for saving them.

 

The Wise women watched over her in turns, burning scented candles and singing hymns to both Nerevar and Azura, priests knelt at her bed with their heads bowed and hoped for her recovery, prayed to all the Gods they could think of to bring mercy to her, either by a quick death or an even quicker recovery.

 

They had debated on removing her leg all together, as fevers seem to come and go from her frail body. She would shiver and sweat in her state, but they would never had guessed it to be coming from her soul. Often she was forced awake to drink water, then soup, and then she would be back under a heavy sleep to rest.

 

Weeks went by, most of her wounds had closed nicely and the stitching had been removed, though the scars would remain for a lifetime or two. Her leg had been set properly, but if she would be able to walk again on it time will only tell.

 

They had agreed to keep her with the Urshilaku camp, the wise woman had many talents and it was widely believed that Nereval would first go to them, or to Tel Fyr.

 

It was several days before she began to stir on her own, without being forced awake. Her eyes felt dry as she tried to pry them open, and for a moment she believed herself to be either dead or still within Red Mountain, but she never moved, nor did panic grip her. She was numb to the world and so very tired. So thus she fell back asleep, but the second time she awoke she pushed herself up onto her elbows, thankful for whoever had taken her in had only lit very few candles, and she guessed outside was dark, too. Next to her bed sat a cup of water, and a bowl of what she guessed was a stew. With slow movement she drank the water in little sips, she did not want to upset her stomach. Then she tried her best to eat what little she could, though the food was too good to resist.

 

She placed the cup into the bowl and laid herself back down, placing her hands onto her abdomen and taking a deep breath, letting it go back out through her nose as she closed her eyes and recalled the most recent events. Placing Wraithguard onto her arm, finding Keening and Sunder, then fighting with Dagoth Ur. Then she remembered Nerevar disappearing, and she still could not sense him near. He was gone, Dagoth Ur was gone, the Tribunal will lose their powers and she covered her face with her hands and allowed a little sob to escape her mouth. So much had happened, so much had transpired and she needed this moment to catch up with all the emotions riding within her. From anger, to sadness then to joy, they would soon fade to pain.

 

She carefully lifted the blanket to take a look at the damage on her body. Most of the bruises had faded to a distorted yellow on her skin, most of the scabs were turning into scars now. But her leg… She felt fear grip her, she guessed that many had tried to set it back into place but It was still resting at an odd angle, something she would have to live with for the rest of her life. Nereval was grateful for the efforts that was put into that leg, and that she was not awake to feel what they were doing.

 

One thing still bothered her; Nerevar.

 

Where had he gone? Did he leave her willingly or was he taken from her, now that the prophecy was fulfilled?

 

She forced herself to sit up, her muscles stiff from laying on her back for so long. An idea had come to her.

 

Maybe she would be able to travel to the Cavern of Incarnates, speak to Azura. If he was taken away, maybe there would be a chance that she could get him back. She could feel herself well up with hope, and although her body was still healing, she forced herself to stand up. Her leg would not take any of her weight, and she almost fell if it were not for the support beams of the tent. She shuffled her way across to the table, leaning onto the chair and sitting herself down onto it. She had worked up a sweat, just by making her way to the table, and slowly the hope that had built up in her disappeared.

 

Many times throughout the next few weeks she was up and stretching, learning how to walk with a support, a well refined and solid piece of wood that she could lean all her weight on. After a long few weeks, she was allowed to leave to go for walks, so long that BoneBiter was strapped to her back. She was then allowed to go out hunting,

 

After retraining with the hunters in the camp, she finally, finally, was allowed to go to the Cavern of Incarnates. While she still limped and required support, she had made the long trek.

 

It brought back many memories, of her and Nerevar making this trek. She missed him, so terribly. And she only hoped he would come back to her.


	2. Survive.

She had sat on the rock, sweat had gathered up from her long walk from her resting point between the Urshilaku camp and the Cavern. Rain had started once she had reached the rock, and she had timed her arrival appropriately as the sun had began to set and the cavern opened.

 

Inside, she had swore at the statue of Azura. She had shouted, screamed, had thrown the moon-and-star ring from her finger. She wanted Nerevar back, she never asked to be the Nerevarine. It was unfair that she would be left alone to the cruel, lonely fate. It was unfair that she had to sacrifice so much to become a hero she never wanted to be, to have the fate thrust upon her.

 

After her outburst, she had slumped against the rock and cried, but now she was staring at Azura, with no hate in her eyes. She was tired, sore, she was cold and had a deep ache inside of her chest that she could not describe. It had been there ever since Nerevar left, and she was scared, so scared, to go on herself. She needed him, his support and encouraging words.

 

For a few long hours she had sat there, her sore leg was stretched out before her and she massaged her thigh, her fingers digging deep and yet softly into her skin. She was careful not to disturb the stitching that was still deep within her skin, nor the scabs or bruising. She had to give it to Dagoth, he had really done quite a job at injuring her. At some point, Nereval had dozed off against the rock, a cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The cold wasn’t so bad, though sometimes she had to rub her hands together, and othertimes she wishes she had taken up those lessons to learn how to cast the most simple fire spell. She spent days there, eating rations and sitting in silence. Sometimes she would talk to herself, to Azura, telling her that she would not leave until she had a response. She was stubborn, and it was a gift, at times.

 

After almost a week, her rations began to get low, and her water was almost gone, it was then she saw Nerevar appear before her. The golden figure appeared at the base of Azura, dressed in armor and rich robes.

 

If it had not been for her leg, she would have shot up and threw her arms around him, but instead all she could offer was a small smile, relief shone in her eyes to see him again.

 

“Why did you leave?” She asked quietly.

 

“It was against my choice.” He said, kneeling down in front of her and his golden hand was placed onto her leg, “I am sorry, for I would not have left you there.”

 

Nereval didn’t reply, instead she looked up to the statue of Azura. After a little while in silence, she spoke once more.

 

“Why did you come back?”

 

“Azura has shown me what is to come, and of your love of Morrowind, I am permitted to return to you to help you.”

 

She laughed bitterly, “I can’t even stand without help, how am I going to help Morrowind?”

 

“Even with an injury, you have your wits about you,” He grasped her hands within his own, and placed the Moon-and-star back onto her finger, “Let us return to Vivec, then we will go to Mournhold. Almalexia awaits us there, and I feel that there is trickery at work that we will need solve.”

 

Nereval sighed, flexing the hand which held Wraithguard on it, “Morrowind depends too much on one person.”

 

Nerevar smiled, “Of course, but who else is willing to throw themselves at danger? No one will stand up to her, and the King is as conniving. It is something we must do, many dangers are coming now that the heart is destroyed. We must be ready.”

 

She pursed her lips, giving herself several moments to think through her options, “I will need to get my leg back to what it was, or as close as I can get it. It wont be the same, but at least I’ll be able to walk without a stick.”

 

Nerevar stood, then helped Nereval to her feet, holding an arm around her waist and helped her out of the Cavern.


End file.
